


buying drinks doesn't mean we're in love, right?

by lesbinej



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Other, also the setting is the first half of the masquerade comic, and also im trying to hint super hard at Sombra Redemption Arc, does sombra is gay?, ft. gay™ fareeha, this is.... gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbinej/pseuds/lesbinej
Summary: im really sick of not being able to find any sompharah content so have a masquerade fic based on sombra and her gayass feelings for fareeha. A oneshot, but i might base a series off of thisalso these things always look longer in google docs





	buying drinks doesn't mean we're in love, right?

Sombra sat in her car outside Casino Monte Carlo in a dress that, in her opinion, was far too eye-catching (especially when compared to the beiges and lavenders of other people walking in). Hers was neon pink, cut down to below her cleavage line, and ladies draped on the arms of their rich husbands constantly paused to gawk at her.

Of course, she mused, that could be the point of wearing it.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

“Don’t forget what you’re here for,” Gabe’s voice hissed in her ear. She rolled her eyes  in disgust, not responding. She knew what _she_ was here for, but perhaps Gabe was talking about the actual thing she was _supposed_ to be here for.

She knew that Gabe knew of her extracurricular activities, but did he know that she knew that he knew? Probably not. That was information best kept to herself.

“Relax, _hermano._ I know what I’m doing.”

She stopped loitering in the line and pulled through to the parking lot gate and handed her key to the valet. Sometimes, the best way to infiltrate a tight security was legitimately.

The tall, presumptuous doors were propped open lazily and bright lights streamed from inside. Her chest unknotted slightly. Minimal security at the doors, just a customer service desk overlooking the entrance. The whole interior spared no expense; the ceiling was arched high and covered with crystal chandeliers, the floor carpeted with lavish decor and beautiful dining tables made with expensive artisan wood.

Sometimes, Sombra reflected, it was places like these that were the easiest to target.

She allowed herself to analyze the setting critically, without the dazzlement of the luxury decorations. A buffet line and bar on the left meant that people were milling about there. The lavish tables in front of her meant that people were eating and talking, more distracted than agitated and impatient. In the back of the hall was a sweeping staircase, flanked by two men in suits, which Sombra assumed led to the gambling portion of the casino.

She had no interest in stopping for food, least of all casino food, so she wound her way lazily towards the grand staircase.

Sombra flashed her fake ID with little thought towards the omnic when asked, and was allowed entry to the true heart of the casino.

Straight ahead was the gambling area, filled with pool tables and gambling games that required dice and cards and poker chips: this was where Akande’s target lay. To her right and left were slot machines and another bar, respectively. The entire layout was ringed with private rooms and terraces, featuring more shiny tricks to steal money. Sombra was less interested in these and more in the bar, where she would be spending most of her evening. She wouldn’t be getting drunk, she remembered with a bitter twinge. She had to drive home.

Sombra’s job was to lie in wait; a lazy viper coiled up on a hot sidewalk. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. This was not the type of work usually left to her.

Unfortunately, despite her disagreeing very loudly and Gabe politely ignored her protestations, Amelie was chosen to accompany Akande into the true warzone; and so Sombra was left to clear the path for them.

At least she had a job, she reflected, striding towards the slot machines. Poor Gabe was left as the pickup for his boyfriend and Veruca Salt. He was probably driving an inconspicuous car towards the casino right now, chatting merrily with Akande.

She dismissed the thought. Gabe didn’t chat.

Then again, his mood was much lighter after picking up Akande. Maybe together, they were the kind of people to chat about nothing.

“Incoming in 30 minutes,” Akande’s voice said in her ear. Sombra knew that already. She owned a watch.

“Gotcha,” she replied absently, musing over which of the flashing neon lights in front of her made the easiest prey. All of them vied for her attention, blinking words like RICH and JACKPOT and WINNING in various intimidating colors. Neon yellow gave Sombra a headache.

“Don’t get distracted,” Gabe growled. She huffed, rolling her eyes (she couldn’t seem to avoid doing that lately).

“I know, I know,” she said, touched that the angry boyfriends would gang up on her in such a way, but also irritated that they were so convinced of her incompetence. Checking for witnesses and then bending over the closest machine to inspect it, she dismissed thoughts of Akande and Gabe once again. They were not her focus, and she didn’t really much care for either of them anyways.

The slot machine she had chosen was sleek and shiny; WIN! WIN! WIN! it said in golden, blocky letters across the top. The machine itself flashed pink and blue neon lights and featured images of cherries and pineapples. She sniffed in distaste and slipped behind the machine, pressing against the wall where the security camera overhead couldn’t see.

She pressed a palm to the back of the machine, letting the electricity flicker from her fingers to the machine, working its way through the wires and algorithms that rigged the thing from the start. She allowed her program to explore idly for a minute or two, humming quietly to herself, before she stumbled across the sweet spot she’d been searching for.

Jackpot.

“Oh, look, I won,” Sombra mumbled to herself gleefully, hearing her ticket print. She knew how much to take without it being conspicuous. She always did.

Taking her ticket and stuffing it into her bra, she strode over to the bar, checking her watch. Twenty-five minutes to go before showtime.

She glanced up at the bar, which was tended by two bartenders and featured blue lights and fancy drinks, surrounded by stools and sparkling glasses hanging from the ceiling above.

She froze.

At the bar, on a plush red velvet stool, sat a tall, muscular woman in a sleeveless, halter top black dress. Her leg peeked out of a high slit in the side, revealing tall black heels to match. Her skin was dark and her hair was darker, and a familiar tattoo traced the underside of her right eye.

Fareeha Amari lounged casually against the bar, looking outwards, and made eye contact with Sombra, champagne cocktail with raspberry in hand.

Her dark eyes darkened.

Sombra knew that Fareeha recognized her; even if they had never met in person; each of their faces were unforgettable like that.

Sombra sat down next to her.

“Tequila Sunrise for me,” Sombra said to the bartender, and then, to Fareeha: “Come here often, _hermosa?_ ”

Fareeha snorted in disgust.

“I’m not here for you. If I were, we’d already be leaving.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Sombra’s drink slid to her over the counter. “ _Merci,_ " she said clumsily to the bartender, who had already moved elsewhere.

“I’m here on official business. Unlike some people.” The last comment was directed straight at Sombra, and she knew it. It didn’t sting as much as she thought it would.

She wondered why Fareeha didn’t get up.

“Sombra? Have you spotted Maximilien yet?” This was Gabe’s agitated voice in her ear. She made a grunt of displeasure and switched off her comm.

“Boyfriend trouble?” Fareeha asked, a twitch of humor in her voice. It surprised Sombra.

Perhaps she knew?

Knew what?

Sombra had no secrets. None easily discernible to a woman sitting next to her drinking a raspberry cocktail, at any rate.

“That’s closer to the truth than you think,” Sombra said slowly, eyeing the crowd in the poker area for her target. Nothing. She took a sip from her drink. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

She had not meant to be blunt, but it was the truth. Anyone conversing with Sombra either held a bitter taste in their mouth the entire time, or kept the conversations short. Curt.

It was possible, Sombra mused, that Fareeha was doing both.

The woman in question took a sip of her own drink, slowly, deliberately. Her lips looked soft.

“Enemies do not have to be enemies off of the battlefield.”

Those words hit Sombra a little harder than her stinging comments. Enemies. She had let herself forget that this woman was chief of security for a company she had hacked into not many months before, or that she had joined up with an organization that Talon stood against, or that a certain purple woman Sombra worked with had shot the mother of the Egyptian woman in front of her, or--

“Hmph. You sound like someone I used to know.”

It was a half truth. Sombra raised her glass to her lips, feeling Fareeha’s probing eyes on her.

Fareeha took another sip. It was distracting.

Sombra pursed her lips.

“You and me, we’re their guns. The things that they throw when someone pisses them off. The backup to their threats. But--” and here she paused to sip, “--what if their threats were empty?”

“What are you proposing?” Fareeha said sharply. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.

“Tut tut,” Sombra said, shaking her head slightly, but with a smile on her face. “Don’t you know better than to ask questions you don’t want the answers to?”

Fareeha studied the raspberry in her glass.

“I’m not offering you anything. You have nothing to offer, and I shouldn’t even be speaking with you.”

_So why are you?_ Sombra wanted to ask, badly. But she took her own advice and kept her mouth shut. Fareeha was right, after all. The implications of her being seen with a known, active Talon agent would raise eyebrows.

“We’re just having some drinks.” Sombra leaned back casually. “Am I not allowed to have drinks with a friend?”

Fareeha finished off her cocktail. Sombra figured she would get up, thank the bartender, and leave, and that would be that. Her mild disappointment was replaced by a strange sort of relief when Fareeha instead ordered another drink. Same cocktail, but iced this time. Sombra filed that information away for later.

Fifteen minutes before showtime.

Fareeha shifted her weight, moving her cocktail to her other hand. She said nothing, and they sat in a comfortable silence for another five minutes.

Fareeha cocked her head.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person to join a terrorist organization without any reservations.”

Oh, if only Fareeha knew.

Sombra mulled over her answer, the tequila in her hand muddling her thoughts. She was never partial to alcohol.

“I have my reasons,” she said, slow and without slur. “I’m not a terrorist.”

“Your alliances say otherwise,” Fareeha said mildly, flicking a melting ice cube off of the counter. Sombra winced.

“Talon is,” she paused, crafting her answer, “a means to my ends. My allegiances lie elsewhere.”

“To yourself,” Fareeha said. Her tone was cold.

Sombra rolled that idea around in her head.

“Yes? And no.”

It was hard to keep secrets from someone so beautiful.

Fareeha said nothing, which somehow pressured Sombra to blurt out:

“If you’d grown up having to protect yourself, you’d understand.”

Fareeha still said nothing.

A minute or so passed; Sombra was acutely aware that any minute, Amelie and Akande would walk through the doors.

“I suppose so,” Fareeha said finally, plucking the raspberry out of her drink and rolling it around in her mouth.

Sombra suspected that she still privately disagreed, but was preventing an argument. She respected the Egyptian woman for it.

As Fareeha called over the bartender to pay for her drinks, Sombra turned her head to finish her tequila drink.

“Put her drinks on my tab,” Fareeha said, sliding a card to the bartender. Sombra’s eyebrows raised, watching the bartender walk back with a receipt and card.

“How kind, _hermosa_.” She tipped back her glass for the last of the drink.

“Next time, you’re buying.” Fareeha’s face was definitely flushing a lovely shade of red. It made Sombra smile into her glass.

Fareeha’s gaze flickered upwards; she made eye contact with a man across the bar from her and he jutted his chin towards the door. Sombra watched it all curiously.

“Sorry, but I need to jet,” Fareeha said with a smile, and stood up, leaving Sombra at the bar by herself.

Fareeha had not been gone for more than a minute before Sombra spotted Maximilien in the crowd; she switched her comms on.

“Target spotted,” she said to the invisible Akande and Amelie, both of whom were probably furious with her.

“We’re on our way up,” Akande said. Amelie sighed.

“I was impressed by your performance in London,” Akande continued; it took a minute for Sombra to realize that he was referring to the King’s Row uprising, and a second longer for her to realize he was talking to Amelie. “Talon could use more operatives like you. Especially given recent lapses…” He left the end of the sentence that made it clear he knew Sombra was listening. She sighed loudly, having dealt with this from Gabe for too long.

“You know you’re on open channel,” she indulged.

Sombra sat up, a wicked grin on her face.

“Ask her about Saint Petersburg.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> special shoutout to Riley in my discord server for prompting me to write this <3


End file.
